


The ending is the same every damn time

by Inzey



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-21 16:49:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9557984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inzey/pseuds/Inzey
Summary: Inspired by this prompt from the kink meme:Graves had been watching over Credence before Grindelwald supplanted him. During the big showdown, Graves manages to escape his prison and, despite being badly wounded, apparates to the scene.Just in time to throw up shields to protect Credence from the aurors' attempts to kill him.No-Angst Option:The shield works. Credence survives, Grindelwald is defeated, and Credence gets to experience what it's like to have the real Graves fighting in his corner.Angst Option:Graves is weakened by torture and wandless, so while he's able to shield Credence the strain of it kills him. Credence survives, Grindelwald is defeated, but Credence will never truly know the man who gave everything to protect him.Link: fantasticbeasts-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1184.html?thread=1177248#cmt1177248Also includes another prompt, which is mentioned in the end notes, to not give away the plot





	1. 1 (2)

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfiction in this fandom, and my first posted fanfiction since 2013. It has been ages, and I am very rusty!  
> This was done while avoiding my university work and dissertation, because I can't get this pair out of my head.  
> This has not been beta read, so if you spot any errors, please let me know.
> 
> I really hope you guys like it, and I will try to post the next chapter as soon as possible.

Percival Graves had been locked up in the closet of the spare bedroom of his own house for who knows how long, and he was sure he had cycled through every feeling there was at least twice a day. He was bound hands and feet with magical ropes, and his wand was in the hands of the blonde bastard wearing Graves’ own face.

Grindelwald had surprised him late one evening when he came back from MACUSA, sitting in the dark of his living room with his wand at the ready. Graves had not been ready, not at all, but he had fought as hard as he could. He knew he had had some hits by the amount of times Grindelwald had used the Cruciatus curse on him. He could remember at least five bouts of pure agony before blissful darkness had embraced him.

He had drifted in darkness and woken to sharp pain; the grinning maniac staring down at him at replaced some of the pain with seething rage, but the pain had quickly returned when the man started getting creative with spells.

Grindelwald had broken Graves’ body and brought his mind to the brink of darkness, then he had swooped in and rooted around Graves’ head. Graves had attempted to shield some of his memories, but he did not know if he had been successful or not; Grindelwald had seemed satisfied when he had returned from his rampage through Graves’ memories and thoughts.

Graves had felt disgust roll through him when Grindelwald used Graves’ own wand to transform himself, taking over the identity of Percival Graves, Director of Magical Security and Head of MACUSA’s Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

There were stretches of time where Graves was uncertain if he was awake or not, when pain was rolling through his body as if the world was on fire and sometimes Graves woke to a numbness in his whole body, making him fear that death was mere minutes away. Still he lived, force fed by Grindelwald at odd times; the man had even done a half-hearted healing spell on some of the worst damages he had inflicted on Graves, so he must have thought Graves could still be of some use to him.

Every time Graves woke without feeling the presence of Grindelwald he would whisper some of the simpler spells he knew, anything that required the bare minimum of magic. He tried desperately to wriggle free from the bonds securing him, wanting desperately to get free.

He had had a lot of time to think, to try and focus on anything but the pain that kept him company in his closet. He raged at his aurors for not noticing that he had been replaced, that the darkest wizard in the world was currently walking amongst them wearing his face. He railed and pleaded at the memory of Seraphina Picquery, his old friend and occasional rival; how could she not notice the change in him, why had she not sent anyone to look for him?

He worried about Tina Goldstein, who he had taken under his wing; she had the makings of a great auror, he could even see her as the director one day. He had seen them as friends, but it was clear that she had not seen him the same way, if she had not noticed Grindelwald taking the place of Graves himself.

The main object of worry in Graves’ mind was Credence Barebone, the young man he had secretly been meeting at least once a week for close to a year. Tina had brought him to his attention, worried about the Second Salemers; Graves had grudgingly agreed to check in on the group, and had chosen to approach Credence.

Meeting the boy had been a strange experience. The boy had seemed so broken, as if there was no life left in him, but the moment Graves has started to show some interest in him, the boy had blossomed. Graves could tell he had a kind heart, and the hint of a battered, but strong soul. Graves had been unable to resist; he had kept coming back to see the boy, to see the innocence he still possessed, even after all the abuse he had suffered.

He had persuaded the boy to have lunch with him, and he had slowly coaxed Credence’s life story from him. He had taken him to nearby diners and cafes, and after meeting for a few months, he had even brought the boy to his own house. Despite the risk he was taking, despite the laws he was breaking, he found himself unable to stop seeing the boy.

The more time Graves spent with Credence, the more he was certain that there was something special about the boy; there was a kind of power, a kind of magic, around the boy, but Graves was unable to figure out exactly what it was. It had always seemed as if the knowledge was just out of his reach; then Grindelwald had happened, and Graves had had nothing but time to think.

Graves had slowly started to pierce it together when Grindelwald had started talking about strange attacks on the city; about dark clouds and destruction wrought on a larger scale than any single witch or wizard could do. Grindelwald was the one who had started talking about Obscurials; he had been ranting about a vision he had had, about a child close to that harridan Mary Lou Barebone. He had smirked when he told Graves that he was using Credence to track the child; he said that Credence was ‘oh so eager to please’ and that Credence ‘would have made a fine pet, if he hadn’t been a disgusting squib’.

It had taken some time before Graves had been able to piece it together, and when he did finally realize the truth, he was disappointed in himself for not realizing it before his capture at the hands of Grindelwald.  
The power around Credence was old and twisted magic, made wrong by the abuse the boy had suffered since his adoption by the Barebone woman. She was the one who had tortured Credence, she was the one who had made him into the obscurial that Grindelwald was now desperately searching for.

Every time Grindelwald came to see Graves, Graves was relieved to find that the dark wizard was still looking for the obscurial. Every day Grindelwald spent looking for the obscurial was another day for the bastard to be discovered, and for Credence to remain safe. It gave Graves a small, twisted sense of satisfaction knowing that Grindelwald was having no luck in his search.

A short while ago – hours? -, most likely still the same day, Grindelwald had come to see Graves in his closet. He had boasted about having sentenced Tina and some British wizard to be executed and that he was close enough to taste the obscurial. The claim had twisted Graves’ gut and he had started to feel an angry panic spread through his body.

Their one-sided conversation had been interrupted when Grindelwald had held up a necklace, the sign of the deathly hallows spinning slowly in the light. The symbol was pulsing with warmth, and Grindelwald had smirked.

“Well, it looks like our dear Credence has found my obscurial. I need to go, but I’ll see you soon, Director,” Grindelwald had said, grinning menacingly. He had shut the closet door, leaving Graves in darkness again, before the tell-tale pop of disapparation signalled that he was once again alone in the house.

The moment Grindelwald left Graves started tugging at his ropes, and going through all the spells he knew. He felt his magic as a weak trickle, and knew that Grindelwald was somehow keeping him from his magic. Despite the apparent hopelessness of his situation Graves kept muttering any spell he could think of, no matter what they did.

It felt as if he had been at it for ages when he suddenly felt his ropes loosen slightly; something must have happened to Grindelwald, to cause him to lose control over the spell keeping Graves bound.

Before Graves was able to contemplate his situation he felt his magic slam back into himself, as if a giant wave had crashed over him. He had no idea how Grindelwald had shielded him from his magic, but he was not about to let this chance get away from him. 

Graves let his magic burn away his bonds, and he slammed the closet door open with a burst of wind. He toppled out of the small space and pulled himself out into the middle of the room. He tried to get to his knees, but he was wracked by pain before he got that far.

Graves knew he was badly injured; his left leg was broken, at least in two places; from the way it hurt to breathe and move, he had several broken or cracked ribs; he could see that his right hand - his wand hand - had several broken fingers, and there must be countless minor wounds and injuries that he did not have time to contemplate.

Graves tried once more to get to his knees, and nearly blacked out at the effort. After an eternity he managed to get upright, and after what seemed like another lifetime he was up on his feet, agonizing pain shooting up his left leg whenever he jarred it.

Graves managed to hobble to the balcony, teeth gritted to keep himself from crying out. He pushed the doors open by hand, unwilling to spend his magic. He might have to use it later, for his escape, and so he had to save it.

Looking up from his balcony he saw a black roiling sky and lightning bolts streaking across the clouds. Feeling the magic in the air, Graves looked closer. He recognized that the lightning bolts were curses and hexes being cast, which meant that the black mass must be the obscurial.

Credence’s face flashed in Graves mind, and with a great effort he disapparated to the top of one of the skyscrapers the obscurial had just flown past.

The landing caused Graves to stumble to his knees, and it felt like years before he managed to get to his feet again. He leaned heavily on the edge of the roof, staring out across New York City. He desperately scanned for signs of the obscurial, for signs of Credence.

Turning his head, he saw the dark shape hit the ground and instinctively Graves disapparated from the roof, moving towards where he had last seen Credence. He had to jump from roof to roof, knowing instinctively that he would not be able to cross the distance in one apparition. 

The closer he got, the more clearly he could see the traces of the obscurial and the damage he had caused. He could also see the aurors hunting Credence and he knew Grindelwald must be close; he knew he had to find the boy before he was killed by the aurors, or before Grindelwald got to him.

Graves managed to apparate to the entrance of the underground station just before the aurors raised the protective shield to keep the no-majs out. He could feel the magic under his feet, in the tunnel below, so he gathered his magic once more and apparated into the station.

Graves appeared in a scene of pandemonium. Credence, obviously caught somewhere between boy and obscurial, was crouched against one of the tile walls; the dark tendrils of the parasite was pulsing and twisting, but Graves could not tell if it was in anger or in fear.

On the other side of the station Seraphina Picquery was leading a host of aurors, all with raised wands pointed towards Credence. Graves could tell by the serious face on Picquery that she was ready to kill Credence for being the obscurial; Graves knew he could allow this, knew that he had to do everything he could to stop it.

In the middle of the platform Graves saw Tina and an unfamiliar redheaded wizard. He also saw himself, or more accurately Grindelwald wearing his face and his clothes. Graves was filled with a seething rage at the sight, and only the fact that he could not properly walk stopped him from rushing the man posing as him.

Graves knew that he had only a few seconds to react, knew that his apparition did not go unnoticed. He saw Picquery and the aurors stare at him in confusion, and he saw the same look mirrored on the faces of Tina and the unknown wizard. Grindelwald, meanwhile, raised his wand, an ugly snarl across his stolen face.

“Protego!” Graves shouted, pushing all his magic, all his power and energy, into the shield he threw up. Graves and Credence was on one side and all the others were on the other side of the shield. He had his hand thrown up, palm facing the shield; he was using wandless magic to keep the shield in place, and even as talented as he was, he knew that he will not be able to keep it up for long.

Hexes and curses rained down on his shield, and Graves sank to his knees. The pain caused black dots to dance across his vision, but he refused to lower his hand, refused to let his shield waver. Both Grindelwald and the aurors are throws curses at the shield, and Graves does not know how long he could keep it up, how much longer he would be able to last. 

From the corner of his eye he saw the dark mass behind him shrink down until he could not see it anymore, too focused on keeping his hand splayed out, his broken fingers throbbing like they had been stuffed with hot coals.

His hearing started to fade, but he saw Tina and the wizard point their wands at Grindelwald, saw the wizard undo the transformation; he saw Picquery’s shocked face, then all wands were being pointed at Grindelwald. Through the blackness swimming across his vision he saw Tina turn to him and start running towards him; he felt his fingers start to numb and his arm started to cramp, then he was no longer able to hold his arm up.

His shield flickered once and vanished, and the bubble protecting Graves and Credence was gone. Graves had a moment of panic for Credence, fearing that the aurors will point their wands at him again. The panic was distant, as was all the other sensations he felt; the rage and the pain was starting to numb, as if it was being muffled by the blackness encroaching on his hearing and his vision.

Graves toppled backwards, unable to catch himself; he heard the distant crack as his head bounced on the tiles but he did not register any pain. Tina appeared in his vision, eyes wide; she seemed to be trying to say something, but Graves could not catch what she was saying.

A sluggish blink and Credence’s face appeared next to Tina. His face was pale, bruised, and his eyes were wide. Graves coughed wetly, somewhat confused at the liquid that trickled over his lips. Both Credence and Tina appeared to be saying something, and Graves thought he caught his name. He thought that it is nice that they were both here, that they were both alive.

He lifted his right hand, confused at the numb fingers, confused at the amount of effort he had to expend to lift his hand. He tried to give Tina a reassuring smile, to tell her that she had done a good job protecting Credence, but he was not sure she understood him.

He finally managed to get his hand up to Credence; he was trying to grip his shoulder, but his fingers were not cooperating so he settled for patting the boy’s cheek. Graves did not understand why the boy flinched as he dragged his numb fingers across his cheek.

“I’m so…sorr…sorry… sorry, Cre…Credence,” Graves mumbled. His mouth was wet, liquid slowly filling up his mouth. He coughed once, then the darkness that had slowly been invading his visions was complete and darkness swallowed him. 

********

Graves woke up to agonizing pain, coughing and gasping for breath. He could not see anything, darkness surrounded him, pressed in on him. Gasping for breath he tried to move, only to find himself immobilised by unyielding ropes wrapped around his body. Panic set in for a second, almost drowning out the constant ache of pain.

Steps across wooden floor bought him back to himself, grounding him for a brief moment. Still short of breath, he could only blink in confusion as a door was yanked open and light blinded him for a short second. Graves blinked to get used to the light, then panic and confusion hit him like a lightning bolt.

“Morning, Director,” his own face greeted him, smirking maniacally.


	2. 2 (3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just couldn't resist writing a bit - can't say the normal update rate will be like this.
> 
> Some mature language in this chapter, but it's only a few words.
> 
> Still on tumblr (owlsawesome), come and say hi.

Pain was constant, his whole body aching; Graves did not think that there was any spot on his body that was untouched by the fire consuming his senses. But he was an auror- the top auror- and he had not gotten to be the Director without running afoul of some nasty spells and hexes before. However, none of what he had felt before, possibly not even combined, made up for how he was currently feeling.

Graves clenched his teeth and tried as best as he could to not feel the pain. He could ignore the physical pain well enough; he had been doing that since Grindelwald had ambushed him in Graves’ own home. The confusion he was having a bit more trouble ignoring, but he decided he could have his minor mental crisis after the bastard wearing Graves’ own face had left.

“Here’s your food, Director,” Grindelwald said disdainfully. He knelt down in front of Graves and placed a cup of water and a piece of dry bread on the floor. He looked Graves in the eyes and Graves shuddered, the feeling of looking into his own eyes unnerving him. He was certain he saw traces of madness in the eyes, and the wrongness of the whole situation sent a sharp spike of anger through his heart.

“We have to stay strong, don’t we, Director?” Grindelwald said, getting to his feet and dusting his knees. He waved his hand casually, and Graves felt his left hand being untied. Without any attempt at using his free hand to escape, Graves snatched up the cup and drank deeply of the water. He tore into the bread, not letting any go to waste, before he finished off his meagre meal with the last mouthful of water.

He knew that if he attempted anything when Grindelwald brought him his food, he would go a long period without food. He had tried it once; when he was finally given water, he could have sworn he had not had anything to drink for close to a week. It had been the most satisfying moment he had experienced during his captivity; the satisfaction he had felt had humiliated him greatly and made him rage at himself for ages. 

Finally fed, Graves allowed himself to take in the moment. The last thing he could remember was seeing Tina and Credence at the subway station, then it had all faded to black. Grindelwald had been caught; Graves had been unbound, finally free from the ropes that kept him hidden in the small closet. The brief feeling of freedom felt as if it had been experienced in another life.

It must have been a dream, Graves decided; there was little chance of him escaping his captor, and little chance of Grindelwald being discovered, no matter what hope Graves held. There was no chance for it to have been anything but a very vivid dream, probably caused by the pain and his captivity.

Grindelwald gestured with his hand and Graves was once again bound, left hand tugged behind his back. He glared up at Grindelwald, then felt a brief moment of hesitation. The tie that the man was wearing was the same one he had been wearing when he brought Graves his previous meal. It was a tie that he had been given as a gift from his sister last Christmas.

Graves had quite a collection of ties; he never wore the same tie two days in a row, and so far, neither had Grindelwald. Graves had to grudgingly admit that for a face-stealing son of a whore, the man’s attention to detail was quite impeccable. 

When Graves looked closer at the other man Graves was only more confused. His own attention to details rivalled the dark wizard, it was one of the things that made him an exceptional auror. Graves noticed that he looked identical to earlier, down to the last detail. One of the scorpion pins were slightly higher than the other, and there were a few strands of hair that had escaped the pomade; both had been just like that last time he saw Grindelwald.

Grindelwald had said the same thing as before, what little he had said, and the amount of food was identical to his last meal. Graves’ head was pounding, and the confusion at what was currently going on was not making it any easier to think.

“I’ve got work now, Director, then I’ll be seeing dear Credence later on. I’ll make sure to tell you all about it, when I return,” Grindelwald said, summoning the empty cup with a twitch of his finger. He gave a lazy smirk, and Graves felt his stomach twist in anger at the words.

Hearing what Grindelwald said confused Graves, but it also made him more certain. It was exactly the same as the man had said the last time Graves had seen him, before he had stormed in and gloated that Credence was the obscurial. Something strange was going on; Graves felt he just needed to collect his thought so that he could work it out, but it was hard to concentrate properly with the waves of pain washing through him.

Grindelwald slammed the closet door shut, and Graves was back in darkness. He could hear Grindelwald moving around his house – Graves’ home – and anger washed through him, like it did every time he thought of the bastard using his home. Graves was unable to lean back against the wall until he heard the tell-tale pop of someone disapparating; the emptiness was bliss after the disgust Graves felt in Grindelwald’s presence.

Graves tried to collect his thoughts, tried to make sense of what he had felt and seen. Despite many attempts, he was unable to properly concentrate; his mind would not stop drifting to the dream he had just had.

It had felt so real, so visceral; Graves was sure he could have been able to name all the aurors Picquery had brought, and describe the redheaded stranger who had been next to Tina. He had never had a dream like that before, never felt a dream like that. He rarely remembered his usual dreams; the things that aurors saw made the inability to recall dreams a good feature. However, this one would not leave him, it refused to fade.

Time passed in the darkness, and Graves tried to loosen his bonds with muttered spells like he did when he was left alone. Like every other time, nothing happened and Graves was left as frustrated as every other failure. Neither spells nor struggling appeared to have any effect on the ropes, but Graves was not willing to give up just yet.

The quiet was broken by the sound of someone apparating, and steps hurrying across wooden floors. Graves felt anger and dread rise in him, and he gritted his teeth to keep from growling. He knew mouthing off to Grindelwald carried a risk; depending on the man’s mood, he could either ignore the threats, or he could use the Cruciatus curse. Graves would rather not risk another round of torture, not with the amount of pain he was in at the moment.

The footsteps came closer, and Graves knew the man was headed towards the closet. The door was pulled open roughly, and Graves winced at the light pouring into the enclosed space. Grindelwald was standing in the open doorway, his eyes shining with a crazed glint. He smirked as he stared down at Graves, and Graves had to bite his own tongue to keep from swearing at the bastard.

“Has Miss Goldstein always has this issue with following orders?” Grindelwald asked, giving Graves a questioning look. The words echoed the ones from Graves’ dream. “She just can’t do what she’s been told.”

“Well, it’s over now. Her blatant disregard for the law, not to mention the partial blame for the release of an obscurus in New York. There was nothing else I could do, I had to sentence her and that troublesome British wizard to be executed,” Grindelwald said, wearing an expression of slight remorse.

Graves felt rage and dismay course through him, but at the same time the sensation of chills raced down his spine. Two thoughts fought in Graves’ mind; how dared Grindelwald execute the best junior auror Graves had, and how could anyone believe Graves would do that, least of all towards the young witch he had been mentoring? At the same time, Graves recognised the words; it was the same words as Graves’ dream, the man was even wearing the same expression when spouting them.

“The execution should be done by now, and I’ll be meeting Credence soon, to check on his mission. I’m close, I know it; I can almost taste the obscurial!” Grindelwald continued with a dark smirk, pulling out Graves’ pocket watch and checking the time. 

Again, it was the same as before; it was happening just as in Graves’ dream. In a few moments Grindelwald would take out the deathly hallows symbol and he would leave, Graves predicted; at the same time, Graves did not know if he wanted to be right, if he wanted it to happen like it had in his dream. 

Just as before the man grabbed his chest and pulled up his necklace, the silver triangle glinting in the light. The satisfaction of being correct left a strange taste in Graves’ mouth; even though it was all happening like in his dream, he still felt out of his depth, confused about what was happening. 

“Well, it looks like our dear Credence has found my obscurial. I need to go, but I’ll see you soon, Director,” Grindelwald said with a grin, and Graves felt a lurch in his stomach. Before he could react in any way, the closet door was slammed shut and Graves was sitting in the dark again.

When Grindelwald disapparated, Graves refrained from his usual routine of tugging at his bonds and murmuring spells. If it was like in his dream, then the ropes would loosen soon enough, without any effort from Graves. He might even be able to save some energy; if it was to go like his dream he knew he would need it.

Graves was not able to keep still for long; even knowing that he would be getting free if it happened just like in his dream, he was not willing to stake his freedom, or Credence’s life, on it. He had not yet made up his mind if he believed the whole absurd situation; it might all be a strange fever dream from being tortured by Grindelwald. 

While tugging on the ropes he suddenly felt them growing slack. He managed to untangle the ropes around his wrists, and get his hands and feet loose. A short minute later he felt his magic return, and he nearly gasped at the simple joy he felt at being able to reach his power again. He tried to not contemplate the fact that it had happened just like in his dream.

Instead of using magic to open the closet, he pushed the door open with his left hand; he cradled his right hand against his chest, the broken fingers throbbing. He managed to crawl to the doorway of the room, where he had to take a brief pause to gasp for air while pain washed through him.

Graves decided to stay on the floor, remembering the effort it had taken him to get to his feet in his dream. Whatever was going on, he needed to conserve his strength. Briefly he considered that it had been a vision he had seen; he pushed the idea away and told himself to focus on the situation. He gritted his teeth and started to crawl towards the balcony, his left leg on fire from the moving.

Graves pushed the balcony door open with his shoulder, and nearly feel face first out on the floor. With a muttered ‘fuck’ and some pained groans, he pulled himself to his knees, and lifted his eyes to the dark skies. Like the dream, the sky was dark and churning, and silver hexes streaked across the darkness.

“Fuck,” Graves mumbled. He felt a brief second of uncertainty; he did not know what to do, he did not know how to solve the situation. Allowing himself that one short moment of panic, Graves squared his shoulders and gritted his teeth. He did not need to have a set plan, he was the Director of Magical Security and Head of MACUSA’s Department of Magical Law Enforcement; he could make it up on the spot.

Without bothering to stand up, Graves gathered all his magic and concentrated. He knew where he was going, so there was no need for him to stop several times to find Grindelwald. He was now going by the dream; as much as the uncertainty rankled him, he had a gut feeling that it would turn out to be right.

Graves disapparated from his house and appeared with a sharp pop in the middle of the underground platform. He was still on his knees, but he had to support himself with his left hand when he started to topple forward in pain. He quickly righted himself, just in time to see the surprised faces of Picquery and her handful of aurors, Tina and the stranger, and Grindelwald wearing Graves’ face.

Going by his dream Graves thrust out his right hand, shouting ‘ _protego_ ’ in a loud voice. The silvery shield went up, yet again separating Graves and Credence from the remaining witches and wizards. Graves felt spells slam into his shield, and he tried to concentrate on keeping up the magical barrier. 

The strain of the magic made sweat pour down Graves’ face; the pain he had tried to push back washed over him, and he began to tremble with the strain of staying upright. His fingers were going numb, and it hurt to breathe. He did not dare to close his eyes; he was afraid would let the shield slip from one moment of not focusing on the magic. 

Sounds started to fade away, and spots began to dance in front of his eyes. He forces his eyes to remain open, even as sweat made them burn. A flicker of black behind him gave him a momentary burst of hope, and he pushed what remaining strength he had into the shield.

Grindelwald moved towards Graves, ignoring the shouts from Tina and the redheaded wizard. Spell after spell slammed into the shield in quick succession, and panic washed over Graves. He knew with a clear certainty that he would not be able to do this, he would not survive this. Another spell took down the shield, and almost all the energy left Graves.

He swayed on his knees and time slowed down. He saw Picquery pointing towards them, Grindelwald or Graves; he could not hear what she was shouting to the aurors, all with their wands swinging towards the two figures with Graves’ face. Tina was moving towards him as well, but she might be heading for Credence; Graves knew she had a good head on her shoulders, even if she could be a bit stubborn at times.

The stranger was pointing a wand at Grindelwald; Graves could see the magic leave the wand, a silvery spell thrown at the back of Grindelwald. The dark wizard also had his wand up, still coming towards Graves; Graves could see the curse flashing towards him and countless thoughts flashed through his mind. The magic hit his chest like a sledgehammer and he was thrown back towards the wall. A sharp pain erupted behind his eyes and then blackness.

********

Pain shot through his head like a lightning strike as Graves slammed his eyes open. Darkness greeted him, but he quickly recognised the inside of his own closet. His ribs ached as he panted, a sharp sting the constant remainder of his damaged ribs. He tried to move, groaning as he felt the magical rope dig into his wrists. 

He allowed himself a moment to catch his breath, casting his mind back to what he had just experienced. What was going on? Was the captivity driving him to madness? Was it all some sort of elaborate torture by Grindelwald? Was it a dream? And if it was a dream, why had he experienced it twice?

Before Graves could really start thinking about what had happened, footsteps reached his ears. He recognised the steps of Grindelwald, and the familiar rage rose up in him. A short second later the closet door was pulled open; expecting it, Graves had closed his eyes to avoid being blinded by the light. He blinked at the dark outline in the door, Grindelwald wearing the same clothes as earlier.

“Morning, Director,” Graves’ own face said with a grin, again.


	3. 3 and 4, (5)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to go up during the weekend, but my lovely mix of depression and anxiety made that a bit hard. In addition I've had some school work to do.
> 
> I really hope you like this update, which is a bit longer than the two previous ones. And I'll try to write more as soon as I can.
> 
> As always, I can be found on tumblr as owlsawesome.

Graves kept his face blank when he was greeted by Grindelwald, swallowing down the hatred bubbling up his throat. The sameness of the situation was no less mind boggling the third time around. Despite the confusion, Graves was determined to make the best of it; he would not be the Director if he gave up when facing a puzzling situation, even if nothing had so far compared to the current one.

“Here’s your food, Director,” Grindelwald said, voice as disdainful as the two previous, identical times. Graves kept his mouth shut and his eyes locked just to the left of his own face. He found it hard to meet his own eyes, and he thought briefly of how it would feel to look in the mirror after seeing his face worn by a madman.

“We have to stay strong, don’t we, Director?” Grindelwald said, standing up and brushing of his trousers. He gave a slight flick of his fingers and Graves’ left hand was free. Graves let his eyes fall to the food and he ate quickly. He hoped briefly that Grindelwald had brought more food, but he knew that there was no chance of that; he had not had any more food the last two times, so why would this time be different?

“I’ve got work now, Director, then I’ll be seeing dear Credence later on. I’ll make sure to tell you all about it, when I return,” Grindelwald said with a slow smirk. He flicked his finger and summoned the cup, having bound Graves again when he finished eating.

Graves ignored Grindelwald, choosing to deliberately lean back against the wall. Grindelwald did not drop his smirk, and Graves made sure to call him some very distasteful things in his own head. The closet door slammed shut and Graves was left in darkness again.

Before he knew it, Grindelwald was gone with the familiar pop of disapparation. Graves tried to roll his shoulders to adjust his position and maybe get rid of some tension, but he had no success. The pain was a constant throb in his whole body, and it was hard to not be affected by it. 

Graves was quite certain that until he was somehow untied during the evening, the day would progress the same way; he had managed to get to the subway station both times, and in both situations the same people had been present. So he was quite certain that even though he was experiencing the same events over and over, the world outside was not moving along without him. The thought was a minor relief; the thought of being stuck in constant pain, constantly dying, while the world continued, was daunting.

Graves drifted off from exhaustion and pain, dozing fitfully. He could not recall much of the dreams he had, except that there was no hiding from the pain he was experiencing in reality.

Graves snapped awake when he heard footsteps approaching the closet. He closed his eyes when the door was yanked open, blinking his eyes to get used to the lights framing Grindelwald in the doorway. 

“Has Miss Goldstein always has this issue with following orders?” Grindelwald asked Graves. “She just can’t do what she’s been told.”

The calmness of the man angered Graves, but he was determined to stay calm and to not invite any more pain. Grindelwald had been generous with his hexes whenever Graves had been too uncooperative; Graves could not afford any more pain, he might not make it to the subway station if he got more hurt.

“Well, it’s over now. Her blatant disregard for the law, not to mention the partial blame for the release of an obscurus in New York. There was nothing else I could do, I had to sentence her and that troublesome British wizard to be executed,” Grindelwald said. He had twisted his borrowed face into something that was supposed to be remorse; Graves felt sick just looking at him.

“The execution should be done by now, and I’ll be meeting Credence soon, to check on his mission. I’m close, I know it; I can almost taste the obscurial!” Grindelwald said with a leer, checking the time on Graves’ pocket watch. 

Graves counted the seconds in his head as Grindelwald pocketed the watch, until the other man felt the amulet react. He pulled it up and held it up to the light, the triangle spinning slowly. Graves was tense against the wall, his muscles aching at the way he held himself.

“Well, it looks like our dear Credence has found my obscurial. I need to go, but I’ll see you soon, Director,” Grindelwald grinned. He slammed the door and Graves heard the steps leading away from the room. The moment he heard the pop signalling the departure of the other man, he started to count the seconds.

Graves knew his bindings would come loose of their own, so he managed to refrain from struggling. He kept counting, mentally taking note when he felt the rope coming undone. He hurriedly pulled his hands free, then untied his feet. 

Instead of moving out of the closet, like previously, Graves remained where he was. He moved his arms and legs carefully, trying to get some sensation back into his limbs. He clenched his teeth and pushed himself to his knees; he would not appear anywhere sitting on his ass, that would not be dignified at all.

Graves pulled on his magic, concentrating hard, and pictured the subway station. He tried to keep his mind concentrated on apparating, instead of the pain he was in. He closed his eyes and felt the pressure of apparating press down on his whole body.

The moment Graves appeared he was aflame, and he fell face first onto the tiled floor of the platform. Pain washed over him, worse than ever before, worse than anything he had felt. It consumed his mind, and black spots swam across his vision.

Graves managed to roll over onto his back, the horrible pain not lessening in any way. He numbly noted the spells flashing over him, but he was pretty sure they were not meant for him. He coughed, panic starting to set in as he felt blood start to pool in the back of his mouth.

“Graves?” Tina had appeared suddenly, without him noticing; she was kneeling down next to Graves, and her she looked pale and horrified. He tried to wave her away with his right arm, but when he tried to lift it, nothing happened.

“Oh, this is bad! Don’t speak, Director! Newt!” Tina was shouting, and she looked really worried. Graves tried to speak, to ask what was the matter with him; he coughed instead, and a few specks of blood appeared on Tina’s face.

Another face appeared next to Tina, an unknown man; Graves thought distantly that it must be the Brit that Grindelwald had mentioned. Thinking of Grindelwald only made Graves wonder what was going on, why Tina and the man was sat next to him and not duelling with Grindelwald or protecting Credence.

“That’s a very bad splinching!” the Brit exclaimed. Graves had trouble getting his mind to work, his thoughts moving sluggishly; he figured a splinching might account for the pain he was currently feeling. 

“He’s missing most of his right side!” The man said, after giving Graves a quick once-over. 

Graves still felt as if he was on fire, but it was all starting to feel a bit numb at the same time. Graves thought the man might be correct, but he could not properly take in the meaning of the words. His mind was unable to connect to the idea that he was missing something, too consumed by the pain.

“Save… Credence,” Graves managed to say, coughing wetly. Tina and the Brit looked as if they were at the mouth of a tunnel, and Graves felt as he was slowly sliding downwards. He could swear his right side was burning, and it would be fine if someone would just put out the fire. Another part of him was panicking about someone having said he splinched himself; that could not be, he would not have risked apparating if he suspected he might not be able to make it.

Darkness closed in, and all the sounds faded away. The last thing was pain, fire dancing along his very bones.

********

Graves gasped as he wrenched his eyes open, but unable to see. For a moment he nearly let panic grab hold of his mind, too disoriented to focus properly. With panting inhales he looked around, and slowly the familiar shapes of his closet materialised as dark silhouettes. He was slowly able to calm himself, telling himself that he was whole again and back in his own house. He was back in his own house, and back to being bound.

Graves exhaled shakily, taking note that the pain he was currently feeling was not as great as expected. It was the same amount as before, but after having felt – a very bad and very painful - splinching, the pain he was currently feeling was not too bad. He did not know what that said about his mental faculties.

Familiar footsteps were moving across the floor, and Graves remembered to close his eyes. He heard the door being pulled open, and he could feel the eyes of Grindelwald. Graves gave it a few more seconds, then he opened his eyes; he blinked at the shape in the doorway, clenching his teeth to hide his anger at the other man.

“Morning, Director,” Grindelwald said, wearing Graves’ own face. The dark wizard smirked, and Graves silently strained against his bonds. He wanted nothing more than to take a swing at the man; surely Grindelwald would not see a no-maj punch coming, not with the way he believed wizards to be the superior race.

“Here’s your food, Director,” Grindelwald said condescendingly. Graves just said in silence, mentally coming up with a list of things he wanted to do to the fucker wearing Graves’ face.

“We have to stay strong, don’t we, Director?” Grindelwald continued. He got to his feet and dusted off his knees, before he flicked his fingers at the bindings securing Graves’ left hand. Graves clenched his fingers to get some sensation back into his hand, and started eating his meagre meal.

While chewing, Graves could not help letting his mind dwell over the act Grindelwald was putting on while wearing Graves’ face. Was Graves really so distant and unapproachable that a wizard such as Grindelwald was able to imitate him without any notice? 

Graves recalled the way Grindelwald acted with him, and he could not help a flash of rage at the emotions the other man had displayed wearing Graves’ face. The disdain, hate, aloofness and arrogance was not a look that Graves liked to see on his own face. It reminded him of paintings of his ancestors; witches and wizards who had seen their name, magical prowess and pureblood status marking them superior to others.

Graves grandfather had started to move away from that ideology, but both him and Graves father still showed sign of that way of thinking. Graves was the first Graves to become an Auror since Gondulphus Graves; Graves had not wanted to follow his father into politics. He had believed he could do more for their society as an auror, but look at him now. A captive of Grindelwald, unable to do anything.

“I’ve got work now, Director, then I’ll be seeing dear Credence later on. I’ll make sure to tell you all about it, when I return,” Grindelwald said. He smiled and bound Graves, then he left. The closet door was shut and Graves was returned to darkness. 

Grindelwald moved around briefly, then Graves heard the familiar pop of apparition. He leaned his head back and let his thoughts run through his current situation. He had to figure out a plan, and he had to get it to work. He needed to get out of this damned loop of time, before he went crazy.

Graves spent the time coming up with different scenarios, each one growing more elaborate and unlikely. He wanted to pace, to be able to think while moving; he wanted to get some fresh air, and he really, really wanted a cigarette. 

Before he had been able to come up with any solid plans, he heard Grindelwald apparate into Graves’ home. Before being attacked, apparition within the walls of the house had been impossible, thanks to Graves’ own protective wards. Grindelwald had torn down the wards, taking great joy in describing to Graves how easy he had found the act.

Steps across the floors alerted Graves that Grindelwald was approaching, and like before he shut his eyes, to stop any momentary blindness. He heard the closet door open.

“Has Miss Goldstein always has this issue with following orders?” asked Grindelwald. He looked at Graves inquiringly, but Graves refused to answer. He was not sure he would be able to refrain from telling the man what a huge fucker Graves thought him to be, and that would surely impact his plans for the evening. “She just can’t do what she’s been told.”

“Well, it’s over now. Her blatant disregard for the law, not to mention the partial blame for the release of an obscurus in New York. There was nothing else I could do, I had to sentence her and that troublesome British wizard to be executed,” Grindelwald said. The grimace that was supposed to be remorse was a mockery, Graves thought to himself.

“The execution should be done by now, and I’ll be meeting Credence soon, to check on his mission. I’m close, I know it; I can almost taste the obscurial!” Grindelwald said, with a lecherous grin. He checked the time on Graves’ pocket watch, before slipping it back into his pocket. Graves was not sure he would be able to wear that watch if – when – he got out of this situation. 

Like before Grindelwald suddenly pulled out his necklace, holding the glittering symbol up to the light. It flashed as it slowly turned, and Graves had to look away. He knew the symbol was associated with Grindelwald and his fanatics, they were known to leave it behind after committing some kind of violence. The symbol had been pinned up on the boards along with the all available information on Grindelwald, at the department at MACUSA. 

“Well, it looks like our dear Credence has found my obscurial. I need to go, but I’ll see you soon, Director,” Grindelwald said with a grin. It was happening just like before, but Graves could not help the sinking feeling in his chest. 

If only it would happen differently, of only there was some way to change it. If only Credence was not exposed as the obscurial. If only Picquery was able to see some difference in Grindelwald posing as Graves. All empty wished, Graves thought morosely as Grindelwald slammed the closet door and headed away. 

It was nearly time for another go, Graves thought, and he readied himself mentally. He tried to push the pain down, to make it manageable, at least until he had gotten to the subway station. He just needed to get to the subway station, to find Grindelwald and Credence.

Graves felt his bindings loosen at the expected time, and he hurried to untie himself by hand. A couple of minutes after his magic washed over him again, and he had to bite back a tiny sob of relief. He had not really realised the wrongness he felt at being separated from his magic, not until he felt it weakly wash through his mind and body.

Graves did not even bother leaving the closet, using the wall behind him to pull himself to his knees. He did not bother standing further up; apparating would sap his strength enough to cause him to fall to his knees, so he figured he would save some energy by staying down. 

He focused his magic on where he wanted to go, and then he was moving. He felt as if he was squeezed through a keyhole and wrung out, as if he passed through frozen water and dancing fire. He landed with a jolt.

He blinked as he looked around, noting the buildings around him, dark sky above him and the road beneath his knees. A shout caused his to look straight ahead, where a line of no-maj police were lined up behind their automobiles.

Graves quickly realized he had undershot his goal; the entrance to the subway station was just behind him, and he could see people milling about under a protective dome. The aurors must have warded the location, to keep the no-majes out. 

Graves knew that there was little chance of him being able to walk to the subway station. He was too badly hurt; he would not manage to get that far. Not to mention the aurors were bound to stop him and question his presence.

Despite the overwhelming odds, Graves was not one to give up. He was just about to try to apparate to the subway when a shout from one of the police men caught his attention.

“Stop! Yeah, you! What do you think you’re doing there, huh?”

Graves looked at him in confusion, but the man just repeated himself. Graves knew he did not have time to waste, so he ignored the third shout calling out from the no-majes. He tried to concentrate, to apparate, but before he could move, he heard a sharp blast.

Pain slammed into his left shoulder, and he was thrown backwards. He hit the ground with a thud, breath slamming out of him. His left side was numb for a brief second, then pain flared out, and Graves slammed his damaged right hand to his chest.

He moved his hand away as the touch brought more pain, and in the dim streetlights he saw his hand shining black, dark liquid spread across his palm and fingers. He recognized blood, and the reality of the situation hit him.

The no-maj police had shot him! Of course they had, what better way to end this day than bleeding from a wound inflicted by a stupid no-maj invention. Graves could not help the bitter and dark thoughts that swarmed his mind. For a moment he wanted to become a ghost, so that he could spend eternity tormenting Grindelwald. 

He heard footsteps run across the road towards him. He clenched his teeth at the no-majes surrounded him, and he dimly heard them call out for medical assistance. Graves could not help a coughing laugh at that, making the men shoot him worried looks and empty words of reassurance.

Graves knew that this was it for this go-around, he had failed yet again. Familiar black spots danced in front of his eyes, and his hearing became distant. It got harder to swallow; he coughed and a trickle ran down his chin. The pain started to lessen, and he felt numbness creep into his extremities.

The no-majes were still talking to him. Graves let his eyes slide over their heads and he stared up at the dark sky. He tried to imagine Credence being free as he slowly slid into blackness.

********

Familiar darkness waited as Graves opened his eyes again. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, trying to review his latest set of memories. He needed to see where he went wrong, how he missed the subway station; he needed to do better next time.

He felt a brief twinge in his left shoulder, and the absurdity of being hit by a silly no-maj projectile nearly made Graves laugh. If he ever told anyone of this, he figured it might be best to leave out the latest attempt. No need to let anyone know that Director Percival Graves had been surprised by a no-maj weapon.

Graves heard the familiar footsteps of Grindelwald move across the floor, just like before. Graves’ eyes were still closed, and he did not open them until he heard the closet door creak as it was opened. The familiar silhouette of Grindelwald was outlined in the light, wearing the same outfit as the four previous times.

“Morning, Director,” Grindelwald said with a patronising grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you spot any mistakes :)  
> Also, sorry if some of the phrasing seem repetitive (I'm trying to come up with as many ways as possible to say the most simple things, e.g. "he said with a grin").

**Author's Note:**

> Mix of the above-mentioned prompt and the tag of the day from ao3tagoftheday.tumblr.com/:
> 
> 'dying over and over again does a number on your mental health after a while'
> 
> Regarding how Grindelwald keeps Graves restrained, I just made something up. Grindelwald is supposed to be a very powerful wizard, surely he can do it.
> 
> You can find me lurking at tumblr as owlsawesome


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